


Takeoffs & Landings

by chellerrific



Series: Girls’ Night Out [2]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: DIY Superheroes, Female Friendship, Gen, for science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out as a simple science experiment. Who knew it would get so complicated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prototype

**Author's Note:**

> With all the thanks to my usual girl posse. This one goes out especially to my Karen and Kara, Jenna and Anya. That’s why my wings are so big—they’re full of your wind.

**HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND  
SEPTEMBER 7, 17:57 EDT**

The three things Karen Beecher loved best, in no particular order, were her family, her friends, and science. Her boyfriend would probably object to being left off the list, but she was fifteen and he could deal with it. If she had to pick a fourth thing it would be cheerleading anyway.

Karen always thought it was kismet that her high school mascot was the hornet, and the cheerleaders were known as the Bumblebees. Apart from having access to Happy Harbor High’s admittedly so-so science lab, the Bumblebees were easily Karen’s favorite thing about going to school, and she was happy to be back for the first day of classes because it meant they were together again. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen her girls at all over summer, but there’d been no drills to run through, no cheers to learn. She’d kept herself plenty busy otherwise, but all the same, it was good to be back in the uniform.

They’d even initiated a new Bumblebee, the almost impossibly perky Megan Morse. The girls all wanted to head to the diner to celebrate, but Karen declined.

“Hot date with Mal?” Wendy Harris asked with a grin.

“It’s a hot date, but it’s not with Mal,” Karen replied. As a matter of fact, Mal had wanted to do something that evening, but she’d turned him down as well. Mal knew about her priorities and was aware that in this particular three-sided relationship, he was the newcomer; fortunately, Karen’s unwillingness to take crap from anybody, even him, was one of the things he liked best about her, which was why she kept him around.

Megan blinked, still dripping wet from her initiation. “You go on dates with people who aren’t your boyfriend?”

Karen glanced over at the other new student she’d met that day, Conner Kent. He’d sat in the stands for the entire practice to walk Megan home when she was done. “Nah. Not people. See you later.”

* * *

**18:14 EDT**

Karen first discovered both her passion and talent for science when she was fairly young—at the Happy Harbor Elementary second grade science fair, to be precise. One of the top students in her class, Neal Emerson, had boasted that he was a shoe-in for first prize, and it almost wasn’t fair to the other students. When Karen pointed out that her grades were just as good as his, he said the words that would change her life: “But you’re a _girl_. Everybody knows girls are no good at science. It’s like math. Girls are only capable of being good at things like poetry and baking.”

He was forced to eat those words, as well as a heaping helping of crow, when Karen’s project on Colony Collapse Disorder took first prize for the school and went on to place second in the regional science fair. Neal’s project, something about energizing the human body through magnetism, came in second at the school and therefore never even made it to regionals.

Neal never really accepted that defeat; he made claims of cheating and reverse-sexism (whatever that was supposed to mean), but Karen knew sour grapes when she heard them.

Her initial goal had only been to prove Neal wrong, but as it turned out, doing the project sparked an interest in science, especially entomology, in Karen. Her Colony Collapse Disorder project ended up being only the first of many science awards she would win in her school career. For that, she supposed she owed Neal a debt of gratitude. On the other hand, he was a smarmy chauvinist jerk and she didn’t owe him anything.

When she was twelve, her little brother Victor lost his leg in an accident. That was when science went from being a passion to a genuine driving force in her life. His new prosthetic leg fascinated her, all though she was under strict orders from her parents not to take it apart, even if she was confident she could put it back together again just fine. Karen thought of all those times she’d watched the way the bugs in her backyard moved, the way they could fly and carry massive loads for their size and spin silk that was impossibly strong. If science could create something like Vic’s new leg, didn’t it stand to reason it could go beyond that?

And that was the beginning of what she called Project Apis. Karen funded this particular extracurricular activity by doing odd jobs for whoever would pay her for them: mowing lawns, running errands—once, her grandfather paid her a nice sum just for teaching him how to use his email. (It almost hadn’t been worth it, though.) Fortunately she was pragmatic and resourceful by both nature and nurture, or else there was no way it ever would have gotten off the ground, figuratively or literally.

Now, over three years later, it was finally really starting to come together. She’d made great strides over the summer when she’d ditched the heavy propulsion system and instead covered the whole thing in photovoltaic cells. Not only was it much more aerodynamically efficient, it was also better for the environment—and looked way cooler. The whole quasi-jet pack angle she’d been trying before was a little too zeerust for her tastes.

As much as she loved her girls, she’d had an epiphany about exoskeleton strength that day in math class and had been dying to get home and implement it. Like Mal, her friends all understood, at least objectively, that there was no defusing Karen when she was in Mad Scientist Mode. Her mother, her father, and sometimes even Vic tended to have rotating Make-Sure-Karen-Eats-Sleeps-And-Goes-To-The-Bathroom patrols, because quite frankly, she probably wouldn’t otherwise.

But it was worth it. Karen decided that if she kept up her current pace, the Apis prototype might be ready to test in as soon as seven or eight more weeks. Of course, the whole thing might explode the first time she tried to use it, but the probability of it being fatal was fairly low. She was pretty sure, anyway. Anyway, results were results. It wouldn’t be science if there weren’t a measure of trial and error involved. That’s why they were called experiments, after all.


	2. Test Run

**OCTOBER 31, 19:32 EDT**

“Karen! Mal’s here!”

Karen was in her workshop, also known as the garage, and she was wearing Project Apis, and she had no idea why her boyfriend was at her house just then.

Before she could take it off, Mal poked his head in, then frowned. “I thought you were going as Lois Lane.”

Karen blinked, then suddenly she remembered. “It’s Halloween.”

Mal raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Are you in your garage dressed up like a bumblebee for some _other_ reason I should know about?”

Well. This was a bit awkward. Karen adjusted her goggles and put a hand on her hip. “Nope. I just changed my mind.”

“I was looking forward to being Sexy Superman and Lois Lane.”

“I guess you’ll just have to settle for being Sexy Superman and… Bee Friend.”

Mal considered this for a moment, then slipped his sunglasses on. “I can live with that.”

It wasn’t that Karen forgot they were going to a Halloween dance at Happy Harbor High together. It was that she hadn’t even realized it was Halloween. She’d been spending the last week putting the finishing touches on Project Apis, and she was finally trying it on for the first time.

Later, Karen couldn’t have said what made her lie to Mal about just what it was she was wearing. It wasn’t embarrassment; Mal already knew she was a nerd, and even if he hadn’t known, if he didn’t accept that about her, that was his problem, not hers. It wasn’t that she was superstitious or otherwise worried it would fail; maybe it wouldn’t work exactly as she hoped, but that wouldn’t make it a failure. She thought perhaps she simply wasn’t ready to unveil it, and the exact reason didn’t matter; it was her prerogative to keep it under wraps for now, and that was fine.

Predictably, she turned out to be pretty much the only person at the dance not dressed like a superhero. Well, she was used to being different.

“Girl, you are _killing_ it in that outfit,” she told Wendy, who almost made a better Black Canary than Black Canary did.

“Thanks. Think I should go blond for real?” Karen could tell she didn’t mean the question seriously, and couldn’t blame her; she wouldn’t want to bother with that root upkeep either. “Loving the wings. They almost look like they could actually work!”

“If I start flying around the room, that’ll be your first sign there’s more than punch in the punch,” Karen said. “I would say it’s Marvin going on about us being invaded by hostile Martians, but, sadly, I know Marvin.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Right? What is this, _War of the Worlds_? Oh! There’s Megan and Conner!” She jumped up and waved at the new arrivals, then hooked her arms through Karen’s and Marvin’s to drag them over.

Megan was easily the hottest zombie bride Karen had ever seen, though apparently effort on costumes had been zero sum between her and Conner.

“Shoot,” Karen said. “I was really hoping for something a little more form-fitting or, you know, shirtless.”

“Say that again,” Mal said.

Karen elbowed him. “Please. I’m allowed to look. Besides, he’s off the market, and I’d never do that to Megan. Sisters before misters.”

Mal shrugged. “I might be worried, but then I remember he’s him and I’m me.”

Karen gave him a light kiss. “Exactly. Care for a dance, Sexy Superman?”

Marvin paused in his Chicken Littling just long enough to gag. She punched his arm as they passed on their way to the part of the gym that had been designated as the dance floor.

In the end, it turned out putting her project on hold for a night had been worth it for that dance. Mal looked _fine_ in his costume, and the expression on Marvin’s face when Megan, Conner, and their friend Wally pranked him was worth the price of admission alone—as was the expression on Wally’s face at Wendy’s reaction to him asking about her “sonic scream.”

“Sorry about Wally,” Megan said genuinely. “He just…”

“Doesn’t have any clue how to act around girls. Or people in general, for that matter.” It was even more of a burn coming from Conner, who wasn’t exactly the most socially-adept person they’d ever met.

“Should I be offended he hasn’t hit on me?” Karen asked.

Megan glanced up at Mal. “I’m pretty sure it’s not you.”

When the dance ended at about ten, they descended on the nearest twenty-four-hour diner like a small swarm of garishly-dressed locusts. After they were done, Karen, who had spent one summer waitressing to help pay for what had just spent the night as arguably the most expensive Halloween costume ever, glared at everyone until they all left decent tips.

Mal dropped her off back at home just before midnight, by which point she had made a crucial decision: the miniskirt she’d chosen looked great with her legs, but pants would probably be a better option in the future. For one thing, she was freezing. For another, it meant more surface area for the photovoltaic cells. Still, it was a shame to hide such a nice light under a bushel.

Well, she did still have cheerleading for that, she supposed.

* * *

**NOVEMBER 4, 14:58 EDT**

Karen had the house to herself for the afternoon, so she stood in the backyard dressed like a bee and let the suit absorb the sun’s rays. Then, she took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered to herself.

And then she was airborne. One beat of the wings and she was a few inches off the ground. A few more and she was staring through the leaves of the tree she’d been climbing since she could walk. Higher and higher and higher she went, her house and neighborhood shrinking below her. She started to grow more confident. Soon she was soaring over Happy Harbor, and she could say without hyperbole that this was the best, most exhilarating feeling she’d ever experienced.

She did a barrel roll, which was fun until she became too disoriented to stop herself from slamming into the side of a building.

Well, at least now she knew the shock absorbers in the suit could do their job. Still, no more barrel rolls until she’d logged a bit more flight time, at least.

She flew on, weaving through downtown, impressed with how naturally this seemed to come to her—though, of course, she’d specifically designed the suit that way. It wouldn’t be as responsive to anyone else.

It was the most perfect afternoon in the history of perfect afternoons. She felt like she could drift lazily though the sky for the rest of her life. As long as the suit was fully charged, it could—theoretically—fly for up to twenty-four hours without sunlight. Which would be useful if she ended up inside a polar circle during a polar night. It was always a possibility.

That was when she noticed the other shape in the sky: the meteor. The meteor that was headed straight for Happy Harbor.

Karen was sure she couldn’t be seeing what she thought she was seeing. She was pretty sure it was impossible. Was she having some kind of altitude sickness? She hadn’t flown _that_ high, had she?

Below her, people were coming out into the streets and pointing up. Nobody seemed to pay too much mind to the flying girl in the bee suit. She supposed that when staring at your impending destruction, one tended to block out everything else, no matter how unusual it might be.

The meteor was real. Even though there was no way it could be, somehow, it was. And there was no mistaking its trajectory.

The confusion below her quickly dissolved into panic. She supposed that the fight or flight response would almost universally evoke “flight” in pretty much every human being when the opponent in question was a massive fireball rocketing towards them at several dozen miles per second.

But Karen was used to being different. With a burst of speed, she directed herself straight at the meteor.


	3. Fusion

**NOVEMBER 4, 16:03 EDT**

If she stopped to think about it, Karen had no idea exactly what she expected to do. The suit was designed, theoretically, to make her stronger and tougher than she already was. It didn’t make her invulnerable, though, and a giant meteor rocketing towards the ground was one of those extreme situations where very little in the world could stop a person from dying horribly.

So, she didn’t stop to think about it.

She could feel the heat radiating off of it long before she got close. But the decision to keep flying at it was never a difficult one; all she had to do was think about all the people below she loved, and Marvin, and she knew there was no way she could stop without trying.

She smelled something burning and she had the horrible feeling it was her hair.

Then something rocketed by her and slammed into the meteor first. She hovered there in the sky, trying to process what she was seeing.

Didn’t it just figure. She was about to save the city and Superman had to jump in and beat her to it.

On some level—the logical, realistic level—she couldn’t stop the wave of relief that flooded over her. Superman was an invulnerable super-strong alien with hundreds, maybe _thousands_ , of daring rescues under his belt, not a regular kid in an untested flight suit. In fact, she was so relieved that she was a little annoyed at just how relieved she felt. It was stupid, but not only did Karen not believe in expecting other people to do things for her (even if the thing in question was bodily keep a meteor from destroying the city below), for a minute, she had gotten strange grandiose visions of herself descending slowly to the ground, the meteor balanced delicately on her fingertips, as the citizens of Happy Harbor poured into the streets chanting her name.

Even if Superman hadn’t shown up, the likelihood of that particular outcome happening was approximately zero, and she knew it, which was why the palpable disappointment she felt was so absurd.

But something was wrong. No sooner had Superman touched the meteor than he let out a primal scream, a sound that chilled Karen’s bones. She would never forget that sound. His body went limp and he began to plummet.

Without thinking, Karen streamlined her body and shot after him. On the way down she was nearly clipped by another figure—she didn’t get a good look, but she was almost positive she’d just passed by Wonder Woman. She was dimly aware of a green glow overhead as well—Green Lanterns, perhaps?

But she ignored them for now. Her one goal was coming between Superman and the building he was about to demolish.

She caught him with plenty of room to spare. It never would have been possible without the special enhancements from her suit. Of course, she never would have been flying around trying to catch falling people (Kryptonians, whatever) in the first place without the suit.

It wasn’t a meteor, but Karen couldn’t help but feel a little super at that moment. Overhead, Wonder Woman and two Green Lanterns had stopped the meteor cold. “The harbor!” Karen shouted, pointing. “But don’t just drop it! You’ll create a tsunami big enough to wipe out the entire eastern seaboard!”

Was she seriously giving directions to members of the Justice League? Well, she was _holding_ one of them, after all. He was unconscious, his skin pale and clammy. Did Superman get the flu? Karen was pretty sure whatever this was, it was a bit more serious than that.

Unsure of what to do with him, she followed the Lanterns and Wonder Woman to the harbor. They flew out a good distance before the Lanterns began to lower the meteor slowly, as delicately as a mother putting her sleeping child in its crib.

“What happened to him?” she asked Wonder Woman. “He got close to the meteor, and then he just… collapsed. I didn’t think anything could stop Superman.”

Wonder Woman regarded her carefully. For a minute Karen felt like she was a specimen under a microscope. “I know of one thing that reliably stops him: kryptonite.”

“Oh. Duh.” Karen looked back at the Lanterns. “So that meteor is probably made of kryptonite.”

“That would not surprise me.”

“It’s floating,” Karen said in surprise. There was no way something that massive could float—unless… “It must be hollow inside! Even better. They can break it up into smaller pieces, thereby greatly reducing the volume and the danger to surrounding ecosystems.”

Wonder Woman gave her another one of her searching looks, then turned and relayed the information to the Lanterns.

“Pardon me for asking, but what planet are you from? You somewhat resemble the bumblebee clan of Hymenoptris, but…”

“Ah, no, I’m from here. Earth. Rhode Island. All of the above. This is just a suit I built.”

“I see.”

“Wonder Woman! You better come check this out!” one of the Lanterns called.

“Excuse me.” Wonder Woman flew over to where they were breaking up the meteor. With only the briefest hesitation, Karen followed after.

“Oh my lord,” Karen breathed when she saw what the fuss was about.

The inside of the meteor was hollow because it contained a spaceship.

* * *

**17:16 EDT**

The shore was mostly deserted. Karen was surprised to see that two people hadn’t fled along with the rest, though: Megan Morse and Conner Kent.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“That’s funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing, only I was going to add, ‘dressed like a bumblebee and carrying Superman,’” Conner said.

Karen frowned. Why did everyone keep saying she was a bumblebee? She’d designed Project Apis after the honeybee, which was a completely different genus. She called it Project _Apis_ , after all.

“You two,” Wonder Woman said, addressing Megan and Conner. She seemed less surprised to see them than Karen felt she ought to.

“What happened to Superman?” Conner asked.

“It seems likely the meteor he came in contact with was constructed of some form of kryptonite,” Wonder Woman said. “I’m afraid it’s not my area of expertise and I would be unwilling to make a more specific diagnosis at this point.”

Just down the shore from them, the spaceship opened, and out stumbled… a teenage girl.

“Stay back,” Wonder Woman cautioned.

The Lanterns caught the girl before she could fall. Holding her head, she steadied herself and began to examine her surroundings.

Then she caught sight of Conner. She easily flung both Lanterns out of the way and flew—literally flew—down the beach at him. He only just managed to stand his ground when she tackled him in a hug.

“Cousin Kal-El!” she cried. “It does my heart glad to see you! You’ve gotten so big, but I would recognize you anywhere. You are the very image of your father.”

Conner, for his part, looked as flummoxed as Karen felt. “My father?”

“My honored uncle, Jor-El.” A sadness crossed over her face. “I fear we may well be the only ones left of our home. I regret that it has taken me so long to reach you. As you may have noticed, my ship became encased in kryptonite. I’m most pleased it was able to locate you anyway.”

“If I may interrupt,” Wonder Woman said. “I believe the one you are looking for is not this boy, but that man there.” She pointed at the unconscious Superman.

The girl blinked at him. “Kal-El!”

Karen took a good look at Superman’s face, then at Conner’s. “You know, she’s right. They look sort of freakily similar.”

“Really?” Megan said. “I don’t see it at all. I mean, Superman’s taller, for one thing, and his… hair… is different…”

“What happened to him?” the girl asked.

“He came in contact with the kryptonite on your ship,” Wonder Woman explained.

“I see. That was red kryptonite. It can have a variety of affects, though I’m pleased to inform you they are only temporary, after which a Kryptonian becomes immune to that particular fragment. Kal-El should recover completely in…” She squinted up at the sky. “I calculate approximately one of your Earth days.”

“That is a relief to hear,” Wonder Woman said.

“Hold the phone,” Karen said. “Let me get this straight. You’re Superman’s… _cousin_? And you’ve been stuck in space for… a few decades?”

“Oh! Where are my manners. I am Kara Zor-El. My father is… _was_ … Jor-El’s brother. I knew Kal-El when he was a baby.” She looked at Conner. “I’m sorry for the confusion. You do look very much like Jor-El, though. Are you related to Kal-El?”

“No,” he and Megan both said emphatically.

“Oh.” This news seemed to disappoint Kara. “I thought I sensed a kindred Kryptonian spirit…”

“Sorry,” Conner said. “Earthling.”

“Me too,” Megan added.

“I as well,” said Wonder Woman.

Kara looked at Karen contemplatively. “And you? You somewhat resemble the bumblebee people of—”

“Hymenoptris. So I’ve been told. Sorry, no, Earthling.”

Kara sighed heavily, and Karen was almost sad she _wasn’t_ actually a bee alien. But then suddenly Kara perked back up. “Oh, well! I’m reunited with Kal-El. That’s all I’ve really wanted since I left Krypton. I would like to see him placed somewhere comfortable while he recovers, unless ill people being held by young females in bee outfits is an Earth custom with which I am sadly unfamiliar.”

“It’s not. At least that I’m aware of. He’s all yours.”

“Kara, will you allow me to lead you to Kal-El’s home? The Green Lanterns can bring your ship with us. There are some people I would like you to meet.” Karen got the feeling that even though Wonder Woman was phrasing this as a question, Kara didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Kryptonians?”

“I’m afraid not. All though not all of them are Earthlings.”

“Oh. I see. That would be more than acceptable.” Kara took Superman from Karen, and then she and Wonder Woman flew away, the Green Lanterns following after with her ship in tow.

Karen didn’t miss the meaningful look that passed between Wonder Woman and Conner before the former left, though.

“Well. This has been, without a doubt, the weirdest Friday afternoon I have ever experienced,” Karen said.

Conner scratched the back of his neck. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Right. I’ll cut you guys a deal. You forget about this whole bee suit thing, and I’ll forget about his freaky resemblance to Superman and her slightly overzealous assertions of being human.”

Megan blanched. “I don’t know what you mean?”

Conner sighed. “Whatever. It’s a deal.”


	4. Credence

**NOVEMBER 7, 18:34 EST**

Karen was impressed at how well the Justice League covered up the meteor incident, especially considering they all disappeared for a day over the weekend, which she reckoned had to be something of a setback. It seemed outside of them, she, Conner, and Megan were the only ones who knew what really happened on the beach. As far as everyone else in Happy Harbor—and the rest of the world—knew, it was a meteor that astronomers had somehow missed (the news theorized about possible supervillains at work), but the world, as usual, was saved through the heroic efforts of members of the Justice League.

Karen wasn’t really sure if she should be relieved or resentful that her name was kept out of things, so she settled for a little of both. She got the impression that this was her own personal Fight Club: she was not meant to talk about it. And it was too weird to explain anyway, so she kept it from everyone. Megan and Conner seemed to be keeping similarly mum.

Seeing them at school on Monday was about as awkward as she’d been expecting. Megan nervously tried to gloss things over, which just resulted in her being even more manic and talkative than usual. It was like she was allergic to silence. Conner, on the other hand, settled for being broodingly reticent, so nobody really noticed a difference with him.

As far as Karen could figure, Kara hadn’t been mistaken: Conner did have some sort of connection to Superman, and whatever it was, Megan knew about it. Did Superman have a son? The thought was so weird it made Karen a little dizzy. Not just Superman procreating, which was weird enough on its own, but his kid being her classmate was what sent it into the stratosphere of Bizarro World. Still, it was only a theory. Maybe Conner was a… little brother? Still weird, all though slightly less so.

She knew asking Conner about it was pointless. Not to mention that if he _was_ related to Superman, she didn’t want to be on the wrong end of his heat vision when he got pissed off. She thought asking Megan about it might provide some kind of results—Megan was the kind of girl who would probably let something slip if backed into a corner—but Conner was so protective of her this was likely to be equally as dangerous. Besides, badgering Megan just seemed mean, like harassing a kitten.

As it turned out, Karen didn’t have to go looking for answers. Halfway through dinner Monday night, they came and found her.

Vic jumped up and answered the knock at the door before anyone else could react. “Karen! It’s for you!”

“Karen, you’re supposed to let us know ahead of time if you’re having visitors over, especially during dinner,” her mother said sternly.

Karen was nonplussed. “I didn’t invite anyone over.”

“Go see who it is and if it’s not an emergency, you can have them come back later.”

She was expecting Mal or maybe Wendy. She wasn’t expecting a statuesque woman with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a severe expression. She _definitely_ wasn’t expecting the blond figure flitting around on her front lawn: Kara.

“Miss Karen Beecher?”

Karen put her hands on her hips. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Diana Prince. I believe you’re already acquainted with my companion.”

She was dressed like a normal teenager in blue jeans and a red T-shirt, but it was definitely Kara. There was something about Diana Prince that seemed familiar too, but every time Karen tried to put her finger on it, she felt disoriented.

“O…kay,” said Karen. “Uh, I’d ask you to come in but my family’s home…”

“We can talk here if you don’t mind.”

Karen glanced back. Vic was in the hall, trying to eavesdrop. She shot him a look and shut the door behind her.

“How did you track me down? And don’t give me one of those ‘I have my ways’ non-answers.”

“Conner Kent and Megan Morse identified you as their classmate,” Diana Prince explained.

“Simple enough. Next question: _why_ did you track me down?”

“I was tasked with debriefing you regarding the… sensitive nature of last Friday’s events,” she explained.

“I’m not about to be subject to some kind of Men in Black amnesia zapping, am I?”

Diana Prince gave a small smile. “No. We believe we have enough leverage against you that you will find it in your best interests to remain silent of your own accord.”

Karen bristled. That sounded suspiciously like a threat. “Look, lady, as much as I’d rather my excursion not be made public knowledge, it’s hardly on the same level as, ‘oh, by the way, Superman’s cousin crash-landed on Earth last week.’”

“That is very true,” Diana agreed with a nod. “However, Conner and Megan provided information on your specific character traits, and I was led to the conclusion that you are most likely not a threat.”

“Right. Well. Now that that’s taken care of…”

“I didn’t mean my words as an insult. Quite the opposite, in fact. Conner and Megan have advised me that you are a person of principle and trustworthiness.”

“That is a little bit less insulting, yeah,” Karen conceded. “Now, who’s ‘we’?”

“Pardon?”

“You were definitely using the ‘we’ pronoun a minute ago, and I didn’t get the impression it was in the royal sense…”

“I see. Well. I should have thought that would be fairly obvious. I’m here on behalf of the Justice League.”

“The thought did cross my mind. I just find it strange that the world’s most powerful beings felt it necessary to send someone over here to finger-wag at little old me. If I was going to tell anyone anything, I would have done it already. My lips are sealed.”

“Excellent.”

“So Conner and Megan do have some kind of connection to the Justice League? Is Conner Superman’s… brother or something?”

“That is a story that is probably best left to Conner to tell you,” Diana said.

“Conner? Tell anybody anything? You’ve met him, right?”

But Diana just gave another one of those tiny smiles that revealed very little about her true feelings. “That is his prerogative.”

“Yeah.” As annoying as it was, it was only fair.

“Karen, would you mind if I were completely frank with you?”

“Mind? I’d welcome it.”

“I was impressed with your performance on Friday.”

“My performance? I’ll accept the compliment, but in fairness, I didn’t exactly do anything.”

“Didn’t you? Did you not build that special suit yourself? Were you not prepared to sacrifice yourself if there was even the smallest chance you could save people below? Did you not catch a falling Superman? Granted, he would have been fine, but of course, whatever he hit would not have been.”

“It wouldn’t have really mattered if the League hadn’t shown up,” Karen said pragmatically.

“Do not sell yourself short. While I wouldn’t necessarily encourage you to fly into meteors, all any of us can ever do is what we’re able. Small acts of bravery and quick-thinking have meaning too. And I would call what you did on Friday a bit more than ‘small.’”

“Well. Thank you. I only did what, you know, anybody else who happened to be flying around in a specially-built super suit at the right place and time would have done.”

“Is that true, I wonder?”

Karen shifted a little uncomfortably. Sure, it had been pretty cool, being in the thick of things. And maybe she had been brave—but she’d also been pretty foolish. Besides, they all still would have been toast if it hadn’t been for the arrival of the Justice League. It was hard for her to get past that particular fact.

“What’s E.T. Barbie doing here?” she asked instead, nodding at Kara, who appeared to be trying to catch a butterfly.

“She wanted to come,” Diana explained. “She too was impressed by what you did for Superman.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

“As far as we can tell, Kara was in her ship for roughly three Earth decades. While time quite obviously did not pass normally for her, I’m sure you’ll understand her desire to… stretch her legs. This is all very new to her.”

“So she’s been a teenager for thirty years?” Karen grimaced. “Can’t say I envy her.”

“Yes. We are still trying to figure out where Kara fits into this world. I dare say that’s a question to which Kara herself will need to find the answer. But Superman found his place. Kara is intelligent and compassionate. I have every confidence she will do the same.”

“Okay,” said Karen, not sure what else she was supposed to.

“I know you will keep Kara’s real identity a secret. That is something that belongs to her to tell if and when she decides to. But this next thing I’m going to say is a request: be her friend.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “Be her friend?”

“Due to circumstances, you understand Kara on a level few people will be able to,” Diana explained. “Having a normal friend here on Earth who knows who she really is but isn’t going to treat her differently for it is something I feel could greatly benefit her.”

“Hang on, who said I wouldn’t treat her differently?”

“I arrived at that conclusion on my own. Am I incorrect?”

Karen considered. “No, not really. I mean, I’ll probably keep in mind the bit where she’s an alien who could fry me with a look, but.” She shrugged. “She’s just a person… more or less.”

This time when Diana smiled it felt genuine and almost warm. “Thank you, Karen. I am pleased to see that my initial impressions of you are not incorrect. I see great potential in you.”

“I’ve been thinking first black female president,” Karen told her. “If Oprah doesn’t beat me there.”

“I’m quite certain if that is what you choose to do, that is where you will end up. I have enjoyed our conversation, and hope it won’t be our last.”

“Ah, yeah,” said Karen. “Thanks for not, you know. Erasing my memory or interrogating me or giving me ultimatums or anything like that. I definitely appreciate that. My mom always taught me that the best way to earn respect is to give it.”

“Your mother sounds like a fine woman. Kara!”

Kara hurried over. “Hello! I apologize for my distraction. I find everything about your planet so fascinating. Even the things that are the same as Krypton.”

“No big,” said Karen. “It’s, uh, nice to see you again.”

Kara beamed. “You as well. I am very excited for us to be schoolmates!”

Karen glanced at Diana. “Schoolmates?”

“Oh. Did I forget to mention that? Kara will be starting with you, Conner, and Megan at Happy Harbor High next week.”

“Oh. Huh. Is she, uh, ready for high school?”

“We think so.”

“I am!” Kara said fervently. “By Earth standards, I’m considered very intelligent. I have no doubts that I will have little trouble assimilating.”

“Okay, that’s cool and all, but saying things like that probably isn’t the way to go about it,” Karen advised.

“So noted! See, I’m learning already! I appreciate your aid, Karen. I may call you Karen, correct? You may call me Kara. I have already noticed with amusement how similar our names are. Did I not, Ms. Prince?”

“That she did.”

Kara was definitely a little weird, but there was something about her that Karen couldn’t help grinning at. “Yeah. Karen’s fine. It’s my name, after all. I’ll, uh, see you at school next week, I guess?”

“You can be sure of that.” Kara turned to Diana. “I find myself in dire need of a cheeseburger.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Diana said.

“Oh! Karen, would you like to join us?”

“I’d love to, but I’m already eating dinner with my family. Thanks for the invite, though. Can I take a rain check?”

Kara glanced up. “Rain?”

“It’s an expression. It means… let’s do it later.”

“Oh! I see! Excellent. Yes. Let’s that.”

Karen watched as Kara and Diana drove away. Well, school was about to get a lot more interesting.


	5. Assimilated

**NOVEMBER 14, 07:49 EST**

“High school! It’s just how I imagined it. I’ve spent the last week researching this ecosystem diligently.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “Researching? Did you put a bunch of teenage rats in a cage together and watch them judge the hell out of each other?”

Kara opened her mouth to respond, then grinned. “You’re joking. That’s a joke.”

Karen was impressed. “You really did do your homework. Good job.” She held up her fist.

“Oh wait! I know this one!” Kara executed a flawless dap greeting.

“Whoa, step back, girl’s got swag,” Karen said.

“Yeah! Are you picking up what I’m putting down?”

“Okay, that’s good. You’re done now.” Karen patted her on the shoulder.

“Megan helped me by providing me with television shows to watch,” Kara explained. “They were _sweet_. Some had me R-O-F-L-ing. I particularly enjoyed _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_. I can see why it’s Conner’s favorite program.”

Karen glanced up at the boy in question, who was standing nearby with Megan. “Get outta town. I didn’t take you for a _Wendy_ fan, Conner.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and put on his best “whatever” expression. “What? She’s badass.”

Wendy Harris, the non-werewolf stalker, ran up to greet them. “Hey guys. I—oh, uh, hi!”

“Hello!” Kara said. “I’m Kara Kent. Conner’s cousin.”

“Cousins Conner and Kara Kent,” Marvin White observed. “Kara, meet Karen. Oh man, I hope I don’t get you guys mixed up now. I’m kinda getting a headache already.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I get that a lot. If I had a nickel for every time someone mistook me for a blond white girl…”

“Kara, this is Wendy and Marvin,” Megan said. “Oh! And that’s Mal. He’s Karen’s boyfriend.”

“Hello, Mal, Karen’s boyfriend!” Kara said as he joined them. “I’m Kara, Conner’s cousin. Not to be confused with your girlfriend Karen, who is not a blond white girl. Your T-shirt is very cool.”

Mal was wearing his favorite Superman shirt. Karen quickly turned a laugh into a cough.

“Thanks, Kara. It’s a good shirt, all though it wouldn’t look _this_ good on just anyone,” Mal said in his typically humble way.

When Mal slung his arm around Karen’s shoulders and they had started walking to first period, he said, “Kent’s cousin, huh? I can see the family resemblance.”

“Shut up. She’s a little weird, but she’s nice.”

“You guys seem like you’re BFFs already.”

“We ran into each other not long after she got here. I was one of the first people she met on—in Happy Harbor.”

“Ah. Cool. Hey, I’ll let you copy my English if you let me copy your math.”

“Boo, I already told you that ain’t gonna fly with me. I’ll help you with your math but you can’t just copy it.”

“But if I spend all my time doing homework that means less time for you.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’ll be awesome that you have all the time in the world for me when I’m supporting your ass because nobody will hire a guy who can’t add two and two.”

“Got our future all planned out, I see.”

“You know it. By the way, you’re going to be the one going through childbirth.”

Mal grimaced painfully. “Hey. There are some things you don’t joke about.”

* * *

**16:21 EST**

“It’s too bad tryouts are already over,” Megan said regretfully that afternoon. “Don’t you guys think Kara would make an awesome Bumblebee?”

“She does have the energy for it,” Wendy agreed.

“Plus, she’d be great at the bottom of a pyramid. I mean, check out those biceps. Girl’s kinda ripped,” Karen pointed out.

Linda Park, the leader of the squad, considered this. “Well, I don’t see why she can’t try out if she wants. It _is_ football season and it’s not like we have a quota on cheer. I’ll talk it over with Coach and let you know.” She hurried off.

Kara suddenly appeared beside Megan and Karen. “I get to be a Bumblebee?”

“Whoa! Where did you come from?” Karen said, startled.

“Hello, Megan! Super hearing. It’s not for sure yet, but we’ll see,” Megan explained.

“A word of warning: they’re going to dump a tub of water on you if you make it in,” Conner said.

“Spoiler alert!” Karen scoffed.

“Is this an example of hazing?” Kara asked.

“Hazing? No, it’s not _that_ bad. It’s just an initiation ritual. We all went through it. It’s _supposed_ to be a surprise.” Karen looked pointedly at Conner.

“Sorry, I just thought it would be best not to try to sneak up on the girl with super-strength and heat vision,” Conner muttered.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Megan said.

Linda jogged back over, grinning. “Good news! Coach says she’ll let you try out tomorrow if you want.”

Kara bounced. “Squee! Thank you very much. This is going to be boss.”

Megan was just as excited. “Come on! I’ll help you practice.”

* * *

**NOVEMBER 15, 17:49 EST**

The following afternoon, the Bumblebees ended practice with one newly-minted (and soggy) member, Kara Kent. She and Megan were ecstatic. Karen wondered if it would be possible to harness their collective energy. It could probably keep New York going for at least a month.

“Karen, we’re going to start to think you don’t like us if you keep bailing on us all the time,” Wendy whined.

“Sorry. I didn’t expect another reason to celebrate. This time the hot date _is_ with Mal. We’re going to the movies.”

“That reminds me.” Kara pulled Megan and Karen aside. “Megan, you’re dating Conner. Karen, you’re with Mal. Is this something that is only done on Earth between one male and one female? If so, what about those who identify as both, or neither?”

“Kara, you can date pretty much whoever you want,” Karen told her. “Some people might not react that well, but screw them. It’s not their business and haters gonna hate.”

“I see. I’ve decided I would like to go on a date.” Kara turned and shouted up into the stands, which were empty save for two figures. “Marvin! Will you date me?”

 _“Marvin?”_ Karen and Megan said.

Karen had never seen Marvin move that fast except for that time he thought he was about to be killed by Martians. He was at the bottom of the stands and in front of Kara in an eye blink. “Wh-wh-what? D-d-did you just ask me if—”

“You will date me. Yes. I’d like you to take me on a date.”

“Kara, are you sure?” Karen asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. Haters gonna hate.”

Marvin looked gobsmacked. “I will! Yes please! Let’s go! Where to!”

“Oh dear,” Wendy said, stepping up behind them. “He’s lost the ability to speak in sentences of more than two syllables. I’ve seen this happen before.” She hit him on the back of the head. “Marvin. Reboot.”

“Ow! Ah. Thanks Wendy. What just happened?”

“Marvin, I’m asking you to take me out on a date,” Kara said for the third time.

“Who is? Why but? Me now? You go?”

Wendy put up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry. I guess he’s going to need a little time.”

“I’m pretty sure it stills counts as a yes,” Megan said. “Oh! Maybe you and Marvin and Conner and I can go on a double date. I’ve _always_ wanted to go on a double date!”

Karen burst out laughing at the mental image. “Oh lord. This sounds like the recipe for pretty much the most hilarious disaster of an evening ever.”

Conner was still sitting up in the stands, but Karen could tell he’d heard by the expression on his face. For some reason that only made her laugh even harder.


	6. Protocol

**NOVEMBER 18, 18:37 EST**

Normally the words “triple date” would be enough to send Karen running for the hills. But when that triple date involved two Kryptonians, one of whom was on her very first date, with a completely clueless Earth boy no less, and the other of whom couldn’t find a sense of humor with a GPS, she couldn’t sign up fast enough.

Mal was totally flummoxed as to why she insisted on going, and of course, she couldn’t exactly explain, so she had to hedge a bit, assuring him that they were all Good People and they would all have a Good Time, and if he didn’t, she would Make It Up To Him Later.

Conner looked like he’d swallowed something sour, but then, he pretty much always looked like that. Marvin, on the other hand, looked like he’d swallowed his own tongue. Megan looked totally jazzed, and Kara looked happily indifferent, like she was silently trying to remember the lyrics to “Party in the USA.” (It was most likely Karen’s imagination, but she almost swore she heard Kara humming it at one point.)

As it turned out, it wasn’t such a loss that Marvin seemed to have no appetite whatsoever, as Kara had more than enough appetite for both of them. Karen supposed if she’d spent thirty years in a spaceship she’d probably have room for extra fries too. Maybe not three milkshakes though.

When the bill came, Kara looked expectantly at Marvin.

He stared back, blinking a little, reminding Karen for all the world of a goldfish she’d once owned.

“As my date, you’re supposed to pay for my share of the meal,” she explained matter-of-factly.

Mal was thoughtful. “I thought if you were going by etiquette, it should be whoever did the asking.”

Kara looked taken aback. “Really? But I thought it was always the boy… but then, I suppose it’s always the boy who does the asking… shoot…”

Conner sighed, pulling out his wallet. “I got this.”

“That’s a pretty fat wad of cash, Conner,” Karen observed. “Did your brother lend it to you?”

“You got a brother, Kent?” Mal asked.

“No,” said Conner tersely, staring Karen down. “I have no one to _bug_ me like that.”

Karen could barely suppress a snicker. _Well-played_ , she thought.

Mal looked between the two of them, then shook his head. “Anyway, I’ll chip in.”

“Me too,” Karen said.

It was possible Marvin had money, but he was such a funny gray-green color that it felt mean to bother him.

“I can’t believe I got that wrong,” Kara muttered as they left the diner.

Karen nudged her with her elbow. “Hey, relax. There aren’t rules. You’re just supposed to have fun. Besides, the chances that Marvin will remember _anything_ that happens tonight are basically non-existent. That is not the face of a boy who is checked in.”

“Is he not having a good time, then?”

“Oh, pretty sure it’s just the opposite. If you ask me, he’s having _too_ good a time.”

Marvin wore the same slack-jawed expression all through the movie. Karen knew because when the movie got boring, she made a game of throwing popcorn into his slightly-open mouth, at least until Mal made her stop, worried he might choke.

“I wonder if he’s even conscious,” Karen mused as they left the theatre. “Time for an experiment. Hey, Marvin. Did you see Kara and Megan making out earlier?”

A small trickle of blood leaked out of his nose, and then he passed out completely.

“Huh. Guess he was. Not anymore though.” She nudged him with her foot. “Marvin? Marvin.”

The evening was pretty much all Karen had hoped for, and she was ready to call it a night until she noticed the expression on Kara’s face. She quickly pulled Kara and Megan off to the women’s room.

“Believe it or not, I’ve had worse dates than this,” Karen said. “Well, not really, but you’d be surprised how close.”

“Yeah, my first date with Conner was…” Megan trailed off, glancing at Karen. “It was weird.”

“That did not go how it was supposed to at _all_ ,” Kara said dimly, and Karen wasn’t sure she’d even heard a word that was said.

“That’s Marvin’s fault, not yours. He’s my friend but he’s, you know. He’s _Marvin_. Honestly, this is not the worst I’ve seen him.” That was completely true. “Has Megan told you about the time he seriously thought we were being attacked by hostile Martians? He was like, ‘Aah! Martians! They just killed those two dudes who are standing right behind me alive and well!’”

She and Megan both forced laughs, but it was obvious Kara wasn’t feeling anything resembling levity.

Megan already had another tack in mind. “Kara, you know what I just realized? You and I haven’t done any baking yet. Let’s make cookies this weekend! Conner loves my peppermint chocolate. And I have this cranberry pistachio biscotti recipe I’ve been waiting for just the right occasion to try out!”

Kara shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this.” And then, before anybody could stop her, she sprinted out of the bathroom, out of the theatre, and off into the night.

“She ran away,” Megan told the boys glumly when they met them outside the bathroom again. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Conner said, looking pointedly at Karen, who stuck her tongue out at him.

“You guys go on and take care of her,” Mal said. “We’ll make sure Casanova here gets home all right.”

Frankly, Karen would have rather gone after Kara than drag Marvin’s sorry ass home, but there wasn’t a lot she could do. Reluctantly, she bid Megan and Conner good night and helped Mal get Marvin into his car. (Not, of course, that Mal needed help with a scrawny little pantywaist like Marvin, but it seemed like the polite thing to do anyway.)

“Well. That was awkward,” Mal said.

“Poor Kara,” Karen said with a sigh.

“Oh, come on. You knew from the start it was going to be a disaster. You were steering that _Titanic_ straight for that iceberg.”

“Yeah, but…” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “But nothing. You’re right. I’m an asshole.”

“But a cute one.”

“I’ll put that on my business cards. ‘Karen Beecher, Physicist, Entomologist, Adorable Asshole.’”

“All right, all right. Enough of that. You can make it up to Kara later. Besides, it _was_ pretty funny the way his nose started bleeding.” Mal used sound effects and one arm to reenact Marvin passing out.

He was right about both things. She _could_ make it up to Kara later. And it _was_ funny.

Unfortunately, she realized after Mal dropped her off that she didn’t have Kara’s phone number, or Conner’s, or Megan’s, and somehow doubted they’d be in the phonebook. Whatever she did to make it up to her, it would have to wait until Monday.


	7. Data Collection

**NOVEMBER 21, 14:59 EST**

“Kara.”

Kara spun around, a large smile plastered on her face. “Hi, Karen! I had a lot of fun on Friday. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, I could tell you were having fun when you ran off practically in tears,” Karen said dryly.

“I was not in tears. I was… well, whatever the opposite of that is.”

“Come on, Kara. Cut the crap. I don’t know if you’re trying to spare my feelings or whatever, but it’s not necessary. Besides, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“It’s not?” Kara grimaced. “Marvin didn’t give himself a concussion, did he?”

“No, he’s probably home sick with _embarrassment_ if anything. I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out today.”

“Hang out? You mean… just you and me?”

“Unless you don’t like the sound of that.”

This time when Kara smiled, it was much more genuine. “I love the sound of that!”

“Great. Let’s swing by my place first so I can change.” Karen opened her backpack and showed Kara the contents.

“Ohh, _that_ kind of hanging out. In that case, I have a better idea for where we can ‘change.’”

* * *

**METROPOLIS, NEW YORK  
15:13 EST**

“Oh my lord,” Karen said once she had enough breath to produce sounds again. “I didn’t know Zeta-Beam technology was anything other than theoretical at this point. And I just traveled by it. With Superman’s cousin. That actually happened. I just went from Happy Harbor to… where are we?”

“Metropolis,” Kara said, sweeping her arm out like she had just announced Karen was about to win a brand new car.

“Metropolis. In New York. A distance of about one hundred fifty miles traveled in about five seconds. Physically possible, but bizarre.”

“Is it? I do it every day.”

“Say what?”

“I go to school by Zeta-Beam, since I live here in Metropolis, with Kal-El.”

“Whoa, really? I thought you lived in Happy Harbor, with Conner.”

Kara tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully. “Conner can be… uncomfortable around me.”

“Yeah. He’s uncomfortable around everyone. It’s his default mode.”

“It’s complicated,” Kara said. “Kal-El has advised me not to discuss it.”

“So wait… _are_ they brothers? Conner and… Kal-El?”

“Not… exactly. Let’s go to Bibbo’s. It’s just around the corner. They have the best apple pie I have ever tasted. Well… they have the _only_ apple pie I have ever tasted, but it’s delicious nonetheless!”

Karen could tell a subject change when she heard one, and really, who was she to say no to delicious apple pie?

They were seated quickly, and Kara began to look through the menu. “I love these. A list of food for me to peruse at my leisure. I have it memorized by now, but it’s not the same as actually holding it in my hands. It’s part of the diner experience, I think. Menus.”

Karen had to wonder if being awed and amazed by everything got exhausting for Kara.

When the waiter took their orders, Karen asked for a slice of apple pie. Kara asked for two.

“So what do you and… Kal-El do? Together?” Karen asked.

“Oh, all kinds of things! We eat together, and we sit on chairs together, and sometimes we talk. And also, we train in Klurkor together, and he teaches me about Earth.”

“Klur… huh?”

“Klurkor. A Kryptonian martial art,” Kara explained. “I am considered quite skilled in it. Or… I was, when there was anyone else around who knew it.”

That same shadow passed over Kara’s face again, the one Karen had seen before she’d fled the theatre on Friday night. Karen was afraid she was going to turn and run again, but instead she perked back up. “I enjoy teaching Kal-El, though. He was only a baby when—he didn’t have the chance to learn it as I did. Teaching him is also a good learning experience for me, so we both get something out of it. He’s taught me some of your Earth martial arts as well. He has even suggested I train with his friend, the Batman.”

Karen breathed at the wrong moment, sending her sip of water down her trachea.

“Are you all right?”

Once she’d coughed it up and could breathe again, Karen nodded. “Yeah. Just, you know. ‘My cousin Superman wants me to train with his pal Batman.’ It’s kind of… well, it’s just not something you hear everyday.”

“It’s not? Conner and Megan have both—oh!” Kara clapped a hand over her mouth.

Karen waved a hand dismissively. “I already know they’ve got some kind of connection to the Justice League. Can’t say I’m not _really freakin’ curious_ , but I’m not gonna badger you about it if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Thank you,” said Kara. “It’s not that I don’t wish to talk to you about things, it’s merely that I don’t feel it’s my place to discuss these particular subjects.”

Karen gave her a smile. “You’re just being a good friend, Kara.”

Kara beamed. “Am I? Thank you. You are also a good friend.”

The pie, as it turned out, was pretty good, all though Karen had had better. Still, the company was more than enough to make up for that.

* * *

**15:49 EST**

“Superman’s not gonna, like, laser-eye me if he finds out I was up here, is he?” Karen asked, standing at the threshold. As a general rule she made it a point not to be afraid of other people’s reactions to things, but Superman was Superman, so he was kind of on a different level, in many ways.

“I don’t think so,” Kara said. She grinned. “I’ll protect you if that happens. After all, he’s my baby cousin.”

Karen laughed, the tension leaving her. She took two more steps and was officially inside Apartment 3D of the high rise at 344 Clinton Street: the residence of Superman.

“Besides, I trust you,” said Kara. “You’ve kept my identity. And you’ve kept what you know of Megan’s and Conner’s. I don’t think you would betray Kal-El.”

“I would not, for a number of reasons,” said Karen, looking around. It was about as spartan as she was expecting, immaculately tidy, clean lines, lots of beige.

“That’s Kal-El’s room,” Kara said, pointing to a closed door. “We should probably not trespass. This, however, is my room.”

Kara was a fast worker. The walls were covered in posters, most of them musicians and TV shows, but some superheroes; a huge one of _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_ prominently took center stage. There were some picture frames on the top of the dresser, but the photos inside looked like the ones that had come with the frames. This depressed Karen a little, and she silently vowed to make sure Kara would have real photos to put up soon.

“Loving it,” Karen said. She pointed at one of the posters. “John Stewart? _Mmhmm_.”

“Would you like to meet him? Perhaps I can arrange something with Kal-El.”

 _“Please!”_ Karen gasped. Then she quickly regained her composure. “I mean, yeah, sure, whatever, that’s cool.”

Kara giggled. “Oh! But that’s not what I brought you here to show you.” She opened up her small closet and pushed a row of shirts aside, then pulled out one of the hangers and held the outfit on it up to herself. “Ta-da!”

It was like Superman’s outfit, if Superman were a teenage girl who liked to wear mini-skirts. The S shield was displayed prominently on the front, and it was the same red and blue colors, and there was even a cape. But it was Kara-shaped and -sized.

“Kal-El helped me put this together after I asked him approximately one-hundred thirty two times,” Kara said proudly. “I haven’t had the chance to use it yet. I think Kal-El is waiting until the time is right.”

Karen grinned, unzipping her backpack. “Oh, I think the time is right.”


	8. Reproducibility

**NOVEMBER 21, 16:28 EST**

In the two and a half weeks since her first flight, Karen had hardly been idle. She’d been fine-tuning, especially the peripherals, which she hadn’t had a chance to try out for real yet, so she just had to trust that they’d do what she intended when the time came. They seemed pretty solid under laboratory (or garage) conditions, at least.

The suit itself was as good as ever. She’d only had to replace a few of the photovoltaic cells that had melted in the heat of the meteor and re-calibrate the shock absorbers to make sure they didn’t get overloaded. Basic stuff, just maintenance that she was prepared to do each time she took it out for a spin.

And now she was wearing it again, soaring through the skies of Metropolis, weaving her way through skyscrapers, pedestrian and automobile traffic crawling far below. The insulation of the suit kept her mostly protected from the cold November air and she was glad once again she’d decided on pants instead of a skirt.

Beside her was Kara, who seemed happy and at peace in the air in a way Karen had never observed on the ground. It was difficult to talk over the sound of the wind, but that seemed to be all right by both of them.

Kara drew Karen’s attention with a motion of her hand, then turned and swooped into a sharp dive.

Karen hovered in midair, unable to focus on anything else but the streak of color racing towards the ground. Kara was still subsonic, but Karen wouldn’t be surprised if she were pulling a negative g at least. She hoped that Kryptonian nigh-invulnerability extended to g-force.

Then Kara pulled out of the dive, soaring back up into the air and doing a series of loops.

 _Who needs roller coasters?_ Karen thought in awe. She was definitely going to have to train herself to do some of those tricks without getting disoriented and/or crashing into things.

Kara wound her way back to Karen, putting her hands on her hips and grinning smugly as if to say, _Your turn._

Karen gave it her best shot. She actually managed to pull off a barrel roll without injuring herself, and then tried a loop, all though how successful she was at that, she had no idea. Kara gave her a nod of approval when she leveled off, so it must not have been as bad as it could have been.

Then they were both off, twisting around each other and the buildings of Metropolis, pausing briefly only after they hit each other head-first, and that was only to laugh. Kara was obviously the superior flyer, but Karen thought she was holding her own pretty well for this being only her second time out; she even pulled off one or two neat tricks, though they were mostly by accident and she’d probably never be able to duplicate them.

She felt completely free. It wasn’t that she was unsatisfied with her usual life, but the feeling of soaring unbound through the sky was intoxicating in a way nothing she’d ever experienced before was. A part of her thought that if she patented this suit she could make a mint; who _wouldn’t_ want to experience this? Another part of her selfishly wanted to keep this moment to herself, as if the specialness would diminish the more people who shared it. She knew that was ridiculous—as if happiness could be zero sum, as if every other person on the planet was some kind of happiness vampire.

Happiness vampire? Karen shook her head and put her focus back on flying.

When they paused to catch their breath, Karen glanced down—and noticed they had an audience. The streets weren’t exactly flooded, but there were definitely more than a few people with their heads tilted up, eyes shaded against the setting sun, watching the free show with great interest.

She wondered if any of them was saying anything along the lines of, “Look, up in the sky, it’s a bird, it’s a plane…”

She nudged Kara and pointed discreetly. Kara grinned, grabbed her hand, and shot off into a complicated series of twists and turns to rival any Blue Angels exhibition. Fortunately she never did anything Karen couldn’t physically handle, though she came close once or twice. It reminded Karen of the time when she’d gone to a friend’s party and there’d been a bounce house. At one point she’d gotten folded into a corner and for a minute almost thought she was going to break her neck—but of course she’d gone home without so much as a bruise.

When Kara was finally done showing off, she put on a pageant-worthy smile and raised her and Karen’s linked hands in a wave—which was fortunate, as Karen was much too dizzy to manage a wave under her own power.

The crowd below applauded. She couldn’t help but wonder what they made of this. Then again, it was Metropolis. Maybe people flying around in the sky wasn’t that unusual a sight, especially not people in red and blue.

“Uh-oh,” Kara said.

“What?”

“That guy down there. He’s using us as a distraction to pick pockets.”

“Wait. Are you saying we’re basically a carnival sideshow? Also, you can tell that from here? Damn, girl.”

But Kara was too focused on the problem at hand. She turned and shot straight for the ground.

Karen hadn’t been able to see what Kara was talking about before, but she had a pretty good guess now that it was probably the guy who broke and ran. Karen knew she couldn’t outpace Kara, so her better option was to cut the man off from another direction.

So while Kara went straight down, Karen stayed up high and took another route straight ahead. Then she streamlined her body into a dive, dropping as fast as she dared while still leaving herself enough time to decelerate non-lethally. She hit the ground feet-first a little harder than she’d meant but she only stumbled slightly—didn’t quite stick the landing, but nothing was broken, so she considered it a success.

The man Kara was chasing from behind nearly ran straight into Karen. She adjusted the quartzes on her goggles to try out one of the peripherals, what she called the “stinger.” A painful but non-lethal electrical shock hit him squarely in the chest and he dropped like the sack of crap he was.

Karen squatted down and checked his pulse to make sure she hadn’t overdone it, but the steady beat of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest proved he was still very much alive. The stinger was a success. She was feeling an indescribable rush—flying and science and justice all at once. She could see very easily why some people made a job of this.

In her peripheral vision she caught sight of a pair of red boots stopping just in front of her. She looked up to grin at Kara and instead found herself staring into the thoroughly unimpressed face of Superman.


	9. Phenomena

**NOVEMBER 21, 18:37 EST**

As Karen sat on Superman’s couch beside Kara while the Man of Steel himself glared down at them, all she could think was, _Please, let the ground open up and swallow me whole right now._

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, exactly; sure, he could take her apart like an automobile engine if he wanted, but he was Superman, and that kind of went against everything he stood for. But the sheer awkwardness of the situation was so excruciatingly painful, Karen would almost rather he incinerate her on the spot.

“Kara, I’m very disappointed in you,” he said, sounding exactly like a father on a TGIF program.

“For stopping a pickpocket?” Kara said, giving back her best defiant teenage daughter. “The police were able to arrest him and everybody got their money and belongings back. I— _we_ did a good thing.”

“After putting on a little show for half of Metropolis,” Superman pointed out.

“That? We were just having some fun.”

“I don’t think you understand how important it is for you to keep a low profile.”

“You mean like you do?” Kara shot back.

“That’s different,” said Superman, though Karen could tell even he couldn’t think of how.

“Oh?” said Kara. “It’s different? We both have the same abilities. Oh wait, I’m better than you at Klurkor, _that’s_ different.”

“You’re new to Earth and I don’t… I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, you can. But that doesn’t mean you should take unnecessary risks!”

“I was doing something good! I was helping people, like you!”

“You don’t understand what it’s like, Kara. I’ve been doing this for a very long time.”

“You have to have started as a novice at some point.”

“Yes, but you have the advantage of having experienced people around you. Why don’t you want to take advantage of that?”

“I’m not saying I _don’t_ , but I don’t need you around to hold my hand all the time, Kal-El.”

“Don’t you understand? You’re strong and tough and skilled but you’re not perfect. You can still be hurt. And you’re my only family left.”

The anguish in his voice made Karen realize for the first time that Superman was, at heart, human—Kryptonian, whatever—a man who was far away from home, with no one around he could truly relate to.

“What about Conner?”

Karen knew as soon as the words were out of her mouth that that was the absolute wrong thing to say. The silence stretched on for so long she fidgeted a little just to prove to herself she hadn’t somehow actually rent the fabric of reality.

“What did you say to her about Conner?” Superman said finally, directing the question to Kara.

“Kara didn’t say anything to _her_ about it,” Karen spoke up, aware she was pushing it but a little cheesed off in spite of herself. “ _She_ is capable of putting two and two together _her_ self.”

To his credit, Superman turned to face her. He took a deep breath and said, “I apologize to both of you. That was rude of me. All the same, Karen, Conner is a private matter I would rather not discuss.”

Karen swallowed her annoyance. “I’m sorry too, for bringing him up.”

Superman gave a brusque nod, which Karen took to mean her apology was accepted. She also found she could breathe a little more easily now that the awkwardness was back to only super painful instead of completely spine-crushing.

He sighed, putting a hand to his forehead like he was getting a headache. “I should never have helped you with that suit. You obviously took it as tacit approval to do as you please.”

“With all due respect,” Karen said, “while your protectiveness is understandable and, frankly, a little adorable, it’s also a little, well… insulting. Sure, you make some valid points—Kara is new to Earth, and there are things she doesn’t know about it. But she’s not stupid. Far from it. She’s adaptable, a quick study. Not to mention harder to kill than a cockroach. Er… no offense, I didn’t mean for that to sound like I was comparing you to a cockroach.”

“None taken,” Kara said. “Cockroaches are admirably hardy and resilient. Also in the 2008 Pixar Animation Studios film _WALL·E_ there is a—”

“Yeah, I’ve seen _WALL·E_. Anyway, I know I’m not an expert on being a—Kryptonian, or a costumed superhero, or anything, but it seems to me you could stand to give Kara a little more credit. That’s all.”

Superman frowned. “You’re right. You _don’t_ know anything about it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a point. Fine, Kara. You’re allowed to go out in costume, as yourself, but I want you to understand how important it is to keep that persona separate from Kara Kent. Not only are people going to want to hurt you in whatever way they can, it… there’s a lot to wearing that shield here on Earth. People expect things from you. You expect things from yourself. It can be overwhelming sometimes. Even I need my life away from Superman. You do too. There are also some provisions I’d like to make on this that we can hammer out later. We should probably get Karen home first.”

“Aww,” Kara said. “But we were having fun.”

“I’m sure you were, but it’s a school night.”

Karen clamped her hand over her mouth hard and tried desperately to keep the giggles silent. She only partially succeeded.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s all so _wholesome_ and _normal_ except you’re dressed in… you know, that. I just never pictured Superman in Dad Mode. Or, well, if this were my house, Mom Mode.”

“I’m her cousin,” Superman pointed out at the same time Kara said, “He’s my cousin.”

“Oh, I know, it’s just… never mind. I’ll get changed and we can go.”

* * *

**19:06 EST**

Despite the fact that Superman in civilian form was the same but for different clothes and a pair of glasses, Karen wouldn’t have known it was the same man if she hadn’t, well… already known. It pretty much defied logic, but everything that made Superman recognizable as Superman was gone: the distinctive costume, the air of strength and confidence—he looked like a normal, kind of nerdy guy. It was simple but incredibly effective; after all, how many people were able to view Superman up close for any length of time anyway? People saw what they expected to see. Nobody would expect a normal guy with thick glasses and bad posture to be, in reality, the most powerful man in the world.

“Where did Superman go?” Karen said, looking around in an exaggerated fashion.

He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders up further. “It works.”

“Eh, all white people look the same to me anyway.” She shouldered her backpack. “I called my parents and let them know I’m on my way, but I, uh, may have given the impression that I’m still, you know, in the state of Rhode Island, so if we could all get on board with that fiction, that’d be super.”

“Why shouldn’t I tell your parents the truth?” Not-Superman asked.

“Because I’m asking nicely. Please?” She put on her best wide-eyed ingénue expression.

“I’ll go along with it only because I think that if you’re going to make a habit of this, they should hear the truth from your own mouth,” he said. “I’d like you to take me granting this favor to heart.”

“Oh yeah, definitely!” Karen said enthusiastically. “I feel it right here.” She thumped a fist against her chest for emphasis.

“I don’t often feel things right there unless I’ve just eaten a large amount of very spicy food,” Kara said. “Though… it occurs to me now that I’ve spoken this is most likely a metaphor.”

Karen looked at Not-Superman. “See? Quick study.”

* * *

**HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND  
19:23 EST**

Naturally, it was Vic who opened the door. “Mom! Dad! I think Karen’s in trouble! Some guy from the government’s brought her home!”

“I’m not from the government,” Not-Superman corrected him gently while Karen shouted over his head for her parents’ benefit, “He’s not from the government!”

When her parents appeared in the doorway behind Vic, looking concerned, Karen quickly said, “Mom, Dad, this is my classmate and friend Kara, and this is…”

“Clark Kent,” Not-Superman said quickly, extending his hand. “I’m Kara’s cousin and guardian. We just wanted to make sure Karen got home safely, and I wanted to introduce myself.”

Karen suppressed a shudder. Was Clark Kent Superman’s actual secret identity? Was she being let in on a huge secret here? Why did the coolest things to ever happen to her have to keep being things she couldn’t brag about?

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kent,” Karen’s father said, shaking his hand. “We appreciate the courtesy.”

“Though of course, Karen knows she’s supposed to tell us ahead of time when she’s not going to be home for dinner,” her mother said pointedly.

“That was my fault,” Kara said quickly. “We were just having so much fun we got caught up in things and lost track of time.”

“I’d like to apologize as well,” Clark Kent added. “As the responsible adult here, I should have been more on top of things.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Karen’s father said jovially. “No harm done.”

Karen managed not to roll her eyes, but only just barely. They were all being so painfully polite to one another when she knew as soon as the door was shut she was going to get an earful. Well, she supposed she deserved it; it would have been easy enough to avert.

The three adults exchanged a few more pleasantries. Apparently, Clark Kent was a news reporter. Karen got the impression he didn’t mean the “insurgents in Bialya” kind of reporter, either—more like the “baby panda born in local zoo” kind of reporter. It was one of the least-likely jobs she could imagine Superman having, up there with accountant, janitor, and orange grader.

After a brief conversation, he and Kara bid them all farewell and left Karen to her fate.

Vic knew blood in the water when he smelled it. He waited eagerly for the tear-down he felt sure was coming, but mercifully, their mother sent him to his room.

In the end, it wasn’t too bad; just stern looks and mentions of “responsibility” and “disappointment.” All in all, Karen was sure that for the day she’d had, it had been plenty worth it.


	10. Hypothesis

**DECEMBER 2, 20:03 EST**

“Float like a butterfly! Sting like a bee! Hornets! Hornets! Can’t be beat!”

“Not that you would know it from the score,” Wendy muttered with a sad sigh as she stepped off her box to take a drink of water.

It was the first football game after Thanksgiving break and the Hornets were getting trounced by the Patriots from Mount Harmony High. It was a pretty pathetic sight.

“We are not winning,” Kara observed.

“Understatement,” Karen told her. “We’re getting _massacred_.”

“It’s not the fault of our cheering, is it?”

“I’d say it’s more likely the fault of the dudes on the field who keep fumbling the ball.” Karen only didn’t shout the last part at the top of her lungs because she was meant to be cheering them on, so pointing out how badly they were doing seemed like it might be counterproductive.

The Hornets coach called for a time out, then took the quarterback aside alone, probably to yell at him. The rest of the team took the opportunity to stretch, sit down, and get something to drink.

“What’s going on out there?” Karen asked, wiping off the back of Mal’s neck with a towel.

“I have _no_ idea,” he said. “I’ve never seen the guys do this bad. I swear it’s like that damn ball’s got a mind of its own.”

“Maybe it’s the spirit of the pig taking revenge,” Karen suggested.

But Mal wasn’t in the mood for levity. He just shook his head. “I don’t know. At this rate we’ll have no shot at regionals.”

Karen frowned, but the time out was over before she could say anything else. She gave him a quick kiss and the customary pat on the rear for luck—Karen often said that Mal played the position on the team he did because he had the tightest end of them all—then returned to the other Bumblebees.

“Interesting. It appears there are some situations for which you cannot pull an unfair win from your back pocket.”

Karen’s head whipped around. She hadn’t seen him in years, but there was no mistaking that sneering expression or smug voice. Leaning over the railing at the bottom of the stands was a boy who could only be Neal Emerson.

She groaned inwardly. “You have _got_ to be kidding me. I know that this probably escaped your notice, Neal, but I’m not actually on the team and therefore have no real influence on the outcome of the game.”

“Oh, right! You are too busy filling the very important role of clapping and shouting inane near-rhymes to absolutely no effect. I must say, Karen, I am so terribly impressed with your ability to jump and spell simultaneously.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a _real_ good speller. Here, have a demonstration: F-U—”

“ _Hey_ Karen,” Wendy interjected quickly, popping up beside her. “Linda wants to do ‘get up, turn around.’”

“Go crawl back into the hole you came from, Neal,” Karen said, turning away.

“Hmm… no. I think I will stay and watch my school flatten yours. You know, as they have been doing all night.”

When Karen looked back, Neal was already walking away.

On the field, the Hornets fumbled the ball yet again.

Suddenly, Mal’s claims that it had a mind of its own didn’t seem so hyperbolic.

* * *

**21:04 EST**

The Hornets retreated to the locker room during half time while the Mighty Marching Wasps, Happy Harbor High’s marching band, took the field. Karen had the feeling the boys were going to spend the entire time getting reamed by the coach.

The other Bumblebees split up, some going to get food, some greeting friends in the stands, some just sitting down to watch the performance. Karen grabbed Kara by the arm and hurried into the locker room after the boys.

“Are we allowed—”

Karen quickly put a finger to Kara’s lips to silence her, then led the way to the coach’s office, staying low and using the lockers for cover as much as she could. The team was huddled on the far end of the locker room, focused on the coach, who, unsurprisingly, was not happy.

In the coach’s office, she plucked a football-shaped magnet from the side of his filing cabinet where it was stuck. Then she led Kara back out of the locker room to the equipment room under the bleachers, where the footballs used in the game were kept.

The gate was unlocked and the assistant coaches of both teams were checking the balls’ air pressure.

“Hey. We were hoping we could… rub the ball real quick. You know, for luck?” Karen said.

The Hornets’ assistant coach raised an eyebrow, then glanced over at the other man in the room, the Patriots’ assistant coach. The look of condescension and contempt he gave them, like they were nothing more than airheaded little oxygen thieves, made her badly want to hit him, but she kept her expression sweet and innocent.

“Whatever,” he groused.

The Hornets’ assistant coach handed the football over. Karen cupped it in her left hand, where she had couched the spoils she’d taken from the coach’s office, magnetized side up. As she suspected, it stuck. In fact, it stuck so well that it was difficult to pry it off discreetly.

“Thanks!” she said cheerfully, handing it back. The two assistant coaches both exchanged glances as if to say, _Teenage girls_ , and then went back to ignoring them.

“What was that all about?” Kara said as they left.

“The balls are magnetized,” Karen explained, holding up the coach’s magnet. “I don’t know what he did to them or how he’s controlling them, but I know Neal’s behind it.”

“Neal?”

“Neal Emerson. He goes to Mount Harmony. I knew him in elementary school. He’s a grade-A jackass.”

“How did you know they’d be magnetized?”

“It was a hypothesis. When we were kids he did this experiment about magnets. He was kind of obsessed with them. He was convinced they had all sorts of properties people just hadn’t managed to tap into yet. I don’t know, I got pretty good at tuning him out when he talked after the time he lambasted one of our classmates for bringing a Barbie lunch box to school.”

“How mean! I hope she didn’t take his cruelty to heart.”

“The classmate with the Barbie lunch box was a boy,” Karen said. “And to be fair, Neal wasn’t the only one who made fun of him for it, but it was still an utter load of crap and Neal is still a complete jerk. He’s smart—book-smart, anyway, at least objectively—and he uses that to belittle and bully other people. He was that way when we were kids and it looks like he hasn’t changed. Man that guy really frosts my cookies.”

“So what do we do?”

Karen frowned. “I’d like to punch him in the nose, but as sweet as that would be it’s probably not a good idea in the long run. Dammit.” She sighed. “The only thing I can think is coming up with some kind of story to tell the coach to make them take a closer look at the game balls. We saw someone in the equipment room messing with them or something.”

“Why don’t we just tell them the truth?”

“‘Hey, coach, the balls are magnetized and that little twerp did it, somehow, I don’t know how, but somehow.’ Better to plant a simple suspicion and let them uncover the rest for themselves. They probably won’t be able to trace it back to Neal; I hate to admit it, but he’s too smart for that. But at least we can maybe get the game rescheduled for a later date when they can have a fair match.”

“What’s to say Neal won’t do the same thing again? I mean, apart from the fact that I’ll rearrange his face.”

Karen shrugged. “He’s unlikely to try the same trick twice, especially since they’ll probably keep a closer eye on the balls in the future. But keep that face-rearranging thing in mind, I like the sound of that.”

The football coach was extremely incredulous when Karen spun her story of suspected sabotage, but Kara supported her every word and turned out to be surprisingly convincing back-up. It was enough to convince the officials to take a closer look, at which time the magnets were discovered.

“How the hell did that happen?” the Patriots’ coach said.

“It wasn’t one of my guys,” the Hornets’ coach asserted, motioning to the lopsided score still on the board.

“Just what are you trying to say?”

Karen left them then, before she got testosterone poisoning. A distance away but unmistakably looking right at her was Neal, his expression more sour than ever.

Karen held up the football magnet, then pointed two fingers at her eyes before jabbing them in Neal’s direction. _I’m watching you._

In his own incredibly classy way, he waved one of his own fingers back at her, then turned and left.


	11. Modifications

**DECEMBER 5, 07:39 EST**

Monday morning all almost anybody could even talk about was the weirdness of the football game Friday night, even the students who couldn’t have cared less about football as a general rule. Nobody could think of a similar incident happening before—though granted, most students’ Happy Harbor High-related memories didn’t stretch back more than four or five years at most—and speculation about just who or what could have been behind the sabotage was rampant.

Marvin, naturally, had by that time recovered from the Disaster Date enough to develop an elaborate theory on some kind of Martian ploy to… well, he didn’t seem to have thought it out that well, just that the Martians needed the Hornets to lose the game _for some reason_.

“Man, how much would Marvin piss himself if he knew he was standing just a few feet away from two authentic Kryptonians right now?” Karen mused.

“Two?” Conner glowered, which, to be fair, was not very different from his usual expression. “I can’t believe Kara told—”

“She didn’t tell me anything,” Karen interrupted, waving her hand. “Man, you and Superman would make the worst spies. ‘It’s okay, I don’t need you to tell me the plans for the secret Allied mission because I already know them.’ ‘What do you mean you already know we’re starting with a paratrooper drop at midnight followed by a naval landing on French beaches later that morning and that the other operations going on elsewhere at roughly the same time are just distractions? _Who told?’”_

Conner crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly ignored her.

Nearby Kara and Mal were deep in conversation about football plays. Somehow after only seeing a few games from the sidelines, she had learned absolutely everything about how it was played and had plenty of suggestions for how the Hornets could improve their game—good suggestions, judging by the thoughtful look on Mal’s face.

“So we meet again, Karen Beecher.”

Karen reflexively had the urge to hit something, and hard, but she quickly suppressed it. “Neal, I know the media may have led you to believe otherwise, but it’s not actually cool or romantic to stalk people. It’s creepy and annoying.”

“Funny, I failed to realize standing outside a public school on a weekday morning was now considered stalking.”

“Yeah, well, you fail to realize a lot of things.”

“It would seem my derision is lost on you, as so much tends to be.”

“Oh, no, I got your derision. It just turns out that it doesn’t really work that well when your initial premise is wrong.”

“You surprise me, Karen. I was unaware you had actually managed to accumulate any knowledge about initial premises that are wrong. I thought everything bounced off that rubber skull of yours without ever penetrating to the mush in the center that passes for your brain.”

“Aren’t you needed elsewhere, like to scare off mountain lions with the sound of your voice or something?”

“Oh, ouch. She swings that blunt-edged wit as if under the impression that it is possible for one to bludgeon with the force of sheer obnoxiousness.”

“You have no power here. Be gone, before somebody drops a house on you.”

“Something the matter?” Mal asked, strolling over.

“Just paying the price for leaving my bug repellant at home,” Karen said through gritted teeth. “Won’t be making that mistake again.”

“Hey, man, take the hint and get lost.” Mal nodded his head to indicate the direction Neal should start moving.

“And here we have the loyal dog, come to heel at the master’s side in exchange for scraps. Karen has always been skilled at manipulating people into aiding her in achieving her own ends,” Neal said, staring right into Mal’s eyes, though they were several inches higher above the ground than his own.

“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand the concept of _friends_ , Neal, or the concept of _people don’t like you because you’re an ass and it’s not actually a conspiracy because we’re all jealous of your intellect_ , but seriously, get a life. Preferably one that doesn’t intersect with mine,” Karen said.

“I would be remiss to leave without discussing the subject for which I specifically came,” Neal said. “Call off your dog. This is a private matter.”

“I don’t have anything to talk to you about.”

“Oh really? You have no interest in the _buzz_ that has been going around?”

Karen stared at him. She doubted his choice of words was a coincidence. To Mal she said, “It’s okay.”

He gave her a questioning look, but she only gave a small shake of her head in response, and he backed away.

“All right. Get to the point. The bell’s going to ring soon and also I can’t stand the sight of your face.”

“That was well-played Friday night,” he said. “I would ask you how you managed it, but frankly, I find myself unable to care.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Karen said. “Seriously, get a new shtick.”

“Yawn. Bored with this subject. I wanted to show you an interesting video clip I found on the Internet recently. Now, the person who filmed this obviously does not know a camera lens from the hole in their ass, so this whole thing rather resembles a scene from _Battlefield Earth_ , but I think it will suffice to make my point.”

“What a shame you weren’t there to help, as you are such an expert on assholes,” Karen said.

Neal sneered. “We will see who is laughing in a few moments.” He held up his phone and played the video.

Karen knew instantly it was footage from her flight with Kara over Metropolis.

“So?” she said, unimpressed.

“Imagine my surprise when I saw an African-American girl with… whatever it is you call those things you put your hair in,” he said, indicating her ox horns, “wearing, of all things, a laughable parody of some kind of honeybee costume. As someone with whom I have the misfortune of being acquainted once said, ‘Seriously, get a new shtick.’”

Karen examined her nails. Her polish was chipping. “Can you get to your point?”

“As much as I am loath to admit it, and as garish as it is, the suit in question seems to have its uses. I want to have a look at it. In its entirety. The hands-on kind of look. For as long as I like.”

“No.”

“I apologize. Did I give the impression this was up for negotiation? You have no choice in the matter. Give me the suit or this video goes viral, personal details included.”

“Still no.”

“Let me be clear: when I say ‘personal details,’ I mean your companion’s as well as your own.”

That gave Karen pause. He was bluffing. He had to be. He was looking at a point just over her shoulder—she was pretty sure where Kara had been standing. She refused to turn and look, though. She was not giving him any information. She was not confirming any suspicions, nor was she sparking any in the first place.

“Really. Who would have thought Superman had family?”

Karen still didn’t flinch. Kara had been wearing the S shield that day. It didn’t take a genius to guess she had some connection to Superman. That had been the point, after all. That didn’t mean—

Suddenly Karen realized that Kara could probably hear every word that was being said. And she was exactly the kind of person who would take the opportunity to intervene and threaten Neal. Whatever he did or didn’t know, if she stepped in it would blow everything for sure. How could Karen let her know to stay away without tipping Neal off?

“I _don’t think it’s a very smart idea_ for you to make threats like that, Neal,” Karen said tersely. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll _stay out of this_.”

Neal shrugged. “Contentment is the enemy of invention. You will be at this address with the suit on Saturday precisely at midnight. No trickery, please. Trust me when I say you will be out of your depth. And do not even think about bringing _friends_. You will regret it.” He handed her a business card with an address pencilled on the back.

 _“‘Neal Emerson, Expert on Magnetism, Diamagnetism, Ferromagnetism, Metamagnetism, and Animal Magnetism.’_ Seriously?”

“I do not expect you to appreciate clever wordplay,” Neal said dismissively. “Remember what I have said. Midnight Saturday. _Alone_. Just you and the suit, fully operational. _Vale, lacerte!”_ With a mock salute, he turned and left.

Mal was at her side in an instant. “What the hell was that about?”

Karen shook her head, tucking the card into the front pocket of her backpack—though what she really wanted to do was rip it to shreds and throw them into the harbor. But that would be unfair to the marine life there. “Just some turd I used to know trying to bait me into some kind of grudgewank. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Kara caught her eye just as the bell rang.

“Later,” Karen said shortly, then headed off to class.


	12. Provisionary

**DECEMBER 5, 15:16 EST**

Kara planted her fist in her palm. “Is this the part where I rearrange his face?”

Karen chewed on her thumbnail. “I’d love to say yes but unfortunately I’m gonna have to go with no… not yet anyway.”

“Karen, you can _not_ give your suit to him,” Kara told her emphatically. “I’d rather he say anything about me to anyone than have you do that. You worked so hard on it and who knows what he wants to do to or with it.”

Karen shook her head. “No. No, I refuse to let Neal win. On _any_ level. He’s not getting the suit and he’s keeping shtum about anything he knows or _might_ know. He’s smart, but I’m smarter. And so are you. Not to mention we have brute force on our side as well. The problem is, he _knows_ that. Well, he refuses to _acknowledge_ that anyone might be smarter than him, but even he has to admit that we could easily overpower him. Or even just me, as long as I have the suit. Maybe without it, all though that’s irrelevant. Not to mention as far as he knows, we have Superman in our back pocket.”

“We do. Not literally. You meant that figuratively, right?”

“Yes. So there are two options. One, he’s bluffing big time. That’s a huge gamble for him to take, all though he may know I would arrive at this conclusion and bank on me underestimating the size of his gonads. Lord, I’m giving myself a headache. Okay. Option two, he’s got something up his sleeve—again, not literally—that he knows puts the odds very firmly in his favor no matter what kind of force we bring.”

“Like what, though?”

Karen shook her head. “I don’t know. The obvious guess would be kryptonite, but that would have no effect on me. Kryptonite for you two, and for me… what? He doesn’t even know what the suit is made of, so he can’t have some kind of specially-calibrated tactic aimed for its Achilles’ heel.”

“What is its Achilles’ heel?”

“I’d like to say none, but unlike Neal, I’m aware of my own hubris enough to keep it from being a fatal flaw… I hope. Let’s see… obviously it can’t handle extremes. I doubt he’s got a meteor ready to smash me, though. It’s solar-powered, and he _does_ want to meet in the middle of the night, but even if he chose the time for that specific reason, as long as I make sure it’s fully-charged beforehand, I’ll have up to twenty-four hours of power on it even in total darkness. Well, theoretically. I don’t know. It’s not infallible but… there’s not one _single_ thing that could undo it completely. Not that I know of anyway. And I refuse to believe Neal could possibly know my own suit better than me, or else why would he want to get his hands on it so badly? Argh, this is so irritating! This whole thing stinks of a trap and I’m going to have to walk right into it without a clue as to what it could be.”

“We.”

“Huh?”

“ _We’re_ going to walk right into it,” Kara said. “I know he said to come alone, but I’m going with you, right?”

“Duh. You think I take directions from a snake like Neal Emerson? Hell no.” Karen sighed. “Except that’s exactly what I’m doing. I don’t know. If he’s ready with kryptonite—”

“Then you’ll handle it,” Kara said simply. “And I’ll take care of whatever he’s got that’s meant to counter you. Right?”

“I doubt it will be that simple, but… yeah. If there’s one thing Neal doesn’t understand, it’s the concept of teamwork. I tried really hard to phrase that in a way that wasn’t totally cheesy, but you know what, this isn’t the time for shame. Neal underestimates people. He thinks everyone is inferior to him. I’m probably overthinking this. There’s no way he could handle the two of us together.”

“Do you think we ought to bring Kal-El?”

 _“No,”_ said Karen without hesitation. “He’s never going to hear a word about this. We can handle a punk like Neal on our own.”

“Not that I think you’re wrong, but you did say that Neal’s problem is that he underestimates people. Isn’t it better for us not to chance the same?”

Karen cringed. “Yes, but… okay, look. Maybe this _is_ my stupid pride getting in the way, but I hate having to depend on other people to solve my problems. I hate the thought of bringing out the big guns for someone like _Neal_. And I hate… the idea that you were all wrong to trust me. That in the end I’m only a liability.”

Kara crossed her arms over her chest. “Well. That’s a load of bull.”

Karen frowned at the floor. Kara was getting a little _too_ good at this teenage Earthling bit.

“First of all, you already said we would need teamwork. So you _are_ relying on someone else.”

“That’s diff—”

“Second of all, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but you and I _are_ the big guns,” Kara went on. “We may not be as famous or as experienced as Kal-El, but we’re… we’re _badass_.”

“I guess, but—”

“And third of all, you’ve already proven you are more than worthy of our trust. If you don’t wish to have Kal-El involved, then I will respect that. Frankly, even if it _is_ foolish, I like the idea of us solving this ourselves. Because I want the satisfaction of taking that jerk down myself. And because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do for each other. Right?”

In spite of the situation, Karen found herself grinning. “Absolutely. All right. We got this. It may be the stupidest thing we’ve ever done, but we’re clever, we’re tough, and there are twice as many of us as there are of him. Maybe more than that, I don’t know, he’s not much of a person.”

“Excellent! So what’s the plan?”

Karen tapped her chin thoughtfully. “What we really need to drive home is the fact that he has no chance of beating us in any capacity—not physically and not intellectually.” A Cheshire cat smile spread across her face. “Did a lightbulb just go on over my head?”

Kara looked. “No, I don’t—ah. Metaphor.”

“Got it in one. Okay, so. This is going to take some work to set up. I hope you can keep this week open for that.”

“Well, I _was_ planning on popping off to London to see the Queen for tea, but I think I can reschedule.”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “Now when did you learn sass?”

Kara responded with a Kanye shrug.


	13. Extemporaneous

**MOUNT HARMONY, RHODE ISLAND  
DECEMBER 9, 23:49 EST**

Mount Harmony wasn’t a much bigger town than Happy Harbor, but the difference in size was just enough to make room for a feature the latter lacked: a seedy side. That was where Karen found herself late Friday. She hadn’t asked him, but she knew Neal was enough of a pedant that when he said “midnight Saturday,” he meant just after 11:59 Friday night.

It had been nicer out that afternoon than the rest of the week, but now that it was the middle of the night, it was way too cold for anyone with any other options to be out. As such, Karen found herself alone on the dark street, all but one of the lights in sight broken, leaving not much more than the moon to go by. There were shops and businesses along the street on both sides, but most of them looked shut down, most likely gone bankrupt in the last few years, she guessed. With every step she started to feel less sure she was so alone. The chances that the empty buildings weren’t full of squatters trying to find respite from the weather seemed slim. She hunched her shoulders as if to guard the back of her neck from the gaze of any unseen watchers.

Alarm bells were going off in Karen’s head. Survival instincts, she gathered. She forced herself to ignore them and keep walking. The H&M bag swung comfortingly by her side, just heavy enough to act as a weapon in a pinch.

The address Neal had given her led to what had not too long ago been a bargain clothes outlet. The security gate had been wrenched open, the lock on the door broken. Everything about this screamed “horror movie cliché.”

“You shouldn’t be taking chances like this, Karen,” she muttered to herself. “After all, you’re black.”

She pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“I appreciate you not keeping me waiting,” came Neal’s voice. She could just make out his shape as he came towards her; his features came gradually into focus as her eyes adjusted to the added darkness of the building—at least as much as they were able to.

“As it turns out, Neal, I was so excited by the prospect of getting you out of my life for good that I couldn’t wait a minute longer,” Karen said cooly. She held the bag out by her fingertips. “Can we get this over with, then?”

“I would love to, but unfortunately for us both, what I want is not in that bag,” Neal said.

“’Scuse you. You haven’t even looked in it.”

“And I’m not going to. I don’t know what’s in there but I know it’s not your suit. You’re wearing it.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s freaking _freezing_ outside. The bulk is from layers.” Karen tugged on the purple turtleneck she wore under her overcoat to show him the light blue sweater she had on underneath. “Or what? Am I going to have to strip for you? Gosh, Neal, if you liked me that way you could have just said so.”

“Your flattery of yourself is amusing. Karen, you are not required to like me, as I will certainly never like you. But give me a small measure of credit. We both know there is no way you would have come tonight _not_ wearing the suit.”

Karen let the bag slip from the fingers and hit the floor with a papery thud. “Fine. What, then? Are you going to take it yourself? Come at me, bro.”

“You are going to give it to me,” Neal said.

“Are you actually going to make me say ‘Or what?’ or just get it over with and tell me?” Karen snapped her fingers. “Shoot, too late.”

“‘Or what?’ she asks. Or _we’ll_ take it ourselves.”

The hairs on the back of Karen’s neck stood up. She and Neal were not the only ones in the building.

Two shapes emerged from the shadows on either side of him. They were both female. One of them was massive, easily over six feet, muscular, buxom, with fair skin and a long mane of thick red hair. The other was tall as well, though not nearly as tall as her companion, fit, with a slightly darker complexion and short dark hair.

The taller one was the one who’d spoken. Both women began to move towards Karen, who involuntarily took a step back. Either of them looked like they could flatten her without breaking a sweat.

Of all the scenarios Karen had envisioned for Neal’s contingency plan, not one of them involved him bringing along a pair of ripped bodyguards. The thought of him deigning to work with a team had simply been unfathomable. Never mind the odds of him finding anyone who’d be willing to team up with him. Never mind the odds him finding anyone _competent_ who’d be willing to team up with him.

It seemed in the end, she had been the one to do the underestimating.

Without delaying another second, she grabbed the H&M bag by the handles, turning and throwing it as hard as she could at the front windows. The momentum of the brick wrapped in towels inside carried it through the glass and out into the street. If that didn’t get Kara’s attention, she didn’t know what would.

“Look, she thinks she’s clever,” the redhead observed. “Cleverness won’t save you, darling. Nothing will. Not even your little friend.”

As if on cue, Kara flew in through the what was left of the front window. She grappled the woman head-on, but the redhead only held up her arms to intercept Kara’s momentum and barely budged. With a grunt, she threw Kara off her into the wall.

Karen couldn’t afford to watch any more. She ripped off her overcoat and threw it at the brunette, who swatted it aside and leapt at her. That was when Karen saw the woman’s wrist-mounted blades. Neal’s buddies were not messing around.

Karen didn’t want to spare the time it would take to strip off her other layers. The only one of her suit’s enhancements she wouldn’t be able to make use of in that condition were the wings, though, and it probably would not have been a good idea for her to fly around such a cramped, dark space so recklessly, anyway. Better to leave the aerial maneuvers to Kara for now. Plus that mean she could go full bore on the peripherals with less of a chance of draining the power.

She did spare the time it took to shake her goggles out of the front of her oversized turtleneck and put them on. She was not going bare-knuckle against a woman with swords on her arms.

There were shouts and crashes coming from the other side of the room, but Karen did her best not to look. Kara could take care of herself. Karen had her own needs to focus on at that moment.

The brunette didn’t seem to have the raw power of the redhead, but she was quick, and Karen was not about to underestimate the added potency of those blades. She thought her best strategy was to keep moving, dodging, stay on the defensive until she saw an opening, then use the stinger to bring the woman down. She hoped that wasn’t going to be easier said than done, though. She was no star athlete, though her reflexes were good and she was fit and fairly acrobatic from cheerleading. Not to mention even the shorter woman still have several inches and who knew how many pounds of muscle on her. She was going to have to rely on the suit for strength and to absorb any blows she couldn’t evade.

The only kind of combat Karen had ever been in before was verbal. The “fight” with the pickpocket had ended before it even began. She had been so certain that the physical component of this night was going to be the easy part.

 _Results are results, Karen,_ she chided herself silently as the edge of the blade tore the front of her turtleneck open. _Assuming you’re alive to put the data to use._

The brunette’s fist connected with Karen’s jaw. Karen stumbled backwards over a piece of forgotten furniture and went down hard. The brunette was on top of her in an instant. Without thinking, Karen activated the stinger. The brunette was too busy going in for the kill to expect to be zapped and the shock hit her right in the chest, knocking her for a loop and giving Karen the chance to free herself.

Her hands shaking from the adrenaline pumping through her body, Karen tried to detach the blades from the woman’s arms while she was unconscious. It was too dark to see very well and her fingers kept fumbling.

There was a choked shout from Kara. Karen couldn’t help but look up in time to see the redhead grab Kara in a headlock from behind.

“You are way out of your league, little girl,” the redhead said, visibly applying pressure to Kara’s neck. “You’ve got potential, but there’s a reason they call me Knockout.”

Karen was about to give up on the wrist blades and try to help Kara, but before she could decide on a plan of attack, something grabbed her arm. It was the brunette. There was no way she should have been conscious already. Unless, of course, she had some kind of superpowers as well. The redhead obviously did. Karen had just about had her fill of being wrong for the night.

But Kara was not out yet. She used her leg muscles to propel the two of them straight up, then slammed backwards down onto the ground as hard as she possibly could so that the redhead took the brunt of the punishment. The impact left the cement floor dented and cracked.

It happened so quickly neither Karen nor the brunette had had time to react. “Kay!” the brunette shrieked.

Rookie mistake. Karen used the distraction to power up her secret weapon: the slower but more powerful sonic blast. The brunette turned back to Karen just as she fired.

The blast sent her back into the wall hard and she was down for the count. Nearby Kara was standing triumphantly over the unconscious body of the redhead.

Neal was still in the middle of the chaos, exactly where he’d been when the fight began.

“Kara, help me get these off of her. I don’t know when she’s going to wake up,” Karen said, yanking at the wrist blades again.

“Soon, most likely,” Neal said, seemingly unmoved. “That’s Scandal Savage. She has astounding regenerative abilities. I would advise against taking those blades, personally. She will hunt you down for them. According to her, they are family heirlooms.”

With a couple of solid yanks, Kara ripped them both off anyway. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Neal, I want answers and I want them now,” Karen said. She knew what she and Kara needed to do more than anything was get out and away, immediately, but she also knew this was her only chance to learn anything.

He looked up at her lazily, and she realized he wasn’t simply being nonchalant about the whole ordeal; he was genuinely dazed by it. “I had no idea know who they were at first. They were interested in the video. After I admitted I knew who the girl in the bee costume was it was too late. They wanted the suit. For what purpose, I could not say. Something evil and nefarious, surely.”

“Neal, you are a _fucking_ idiot,” Karen said. She curled her fingers into fists and kept them firmly glued to her sides. “Kara, let’s get the cameras and get the hell out of here.”

They quickly gathered up the three tiny recording devices they’d planted around the room on their visit earlier that week.

“Oh, there were three?” Neal said absently. “I only found two.”

Karen shook her head. “Of course you did. Why didn’t you take them out?”

He rolled his head to look at her, and for the first time that night his eyes almost seemed focused. “I had no idea what was going to happen tonight. No doubt you had some kind of blackmail plot in place to keep me quiet after you refused to turn over the suit. I, on the other hand, wanted a video record of my death, should it come to that.”

Karen sighed, exasperated. “Oh, for the love of… come on. We’re getting out of here. All _three_ of us.”

“Leave the blades,” Neal implored. “I was not kidding.”

Kara frowned, then unceremoniously dropped her souvenirs on the floor. Then the three of them left as quickly as their feet would allow.


	14. Final Statement

**METROPOLIS, NEW YORK  
DECEMBER 10, 13:24 EST**

Karen was lying on Superman’s couch with a bag of ice pressed to her jaw. It already hurt a lot less than it had that morning after the adrenaline had worn off. Superman had assured her it wasn’t broken, which she supposed was one of the more mundane but handy uses of having X-ray vision.

“You should have told me,” he said for the umpteenth time.

“I refuse to apologize for wanting to solve my own problems,” Kara said firmly.

“You’re sure he said Scandal Savage and Knockout?”

“He said Scandal Savage, yes. Knockout identified herself. Scandal also referred to her as ‘Kay,’ though I don’t know whether or not that has any importance.”

“Scandal Savage. I thought that was a guy,” Karen mumbled. It hurt to enunciate.

“That’s _Vandal_ Savage,” Superman explained. “Scandal is his daughter.”

“Oh. The family that has stupid names together… I don’t know how to finish that.”

“Make no mistake. If it had been Vandal himself, I doubt we would be having this conversation.”

“Because Vandal is a man?”

“Because Vandal is an immortal supervillain who has been alive since prehistory.”

“Ah. That… would indicate a distinct advantage on his end, yes.”

Superman suddenly turned away, touching his ear. “Yes? Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” To the girls he said, “The Justice League has Neal. They’ll find out anything else he knows. They’ll also keep him alive if Scandal and Knockout come looking for him.”

“That little turd owes me big time,” Karen muttered.

“You owe him as well, in a manner of speaking. Because of him, you’ve learned a lesson I could never teach you.”

“Getting punched in the jaw really effing hurts? Don’t sell yourself short, Supes. You could have taught me that.”

“This is serious business,” he corrected without a smile. “There’s no league hierarchy when it comes to being a hero. It’s all the majors.”

“Wow, sports metaphors. You are adorkable personified.”

Kara covered her mouth with her hand, but some giggles still escaped. “Thank her for the compliment, Kal-El.”

Superman, unsurprisingly, ignored this. “I’ve contacted Batman. You’ll begin training with him over winter break. Since you’ve already managed to attract the attention of the daughter of one of the worst criminals in human history, I’m afraid this is no longer optional.”

Karen sat up with some difficulty. “Here’s what I don’t understand. Knockout’s already punch-a-bear-into-space strong, and Scandal’s got those regenerative powers, which means durability isn’t an issue.”

“Knockout has regenerative abilities as well, though in a much more limited capacity than Scandal,” Superman put in.

“Okay, so… what do they want with my suit? I mean, sure it’s nifty, and it does allow for flight, but they’re already brick houses themselves. It just seems a little silly for them to make such an effort for something that is mostly redundant in their cases.”

Superman’s lantern jaw was taut. “Exactly.”

“I don’t know if you realize this, but that answer was less than comforting.”

“Good. If you’re comforted, it means you’re not paying attention. I’m going to see the League now to finish this business up, at least as much as we can for now. I’d like you two to stay put until I get back. Can I _please_ trust you to do that?”

Kara pouted. It was heart-melting. Karen was impressed. “Of course. You have my word.”

After he shut the front door behind him, Kara turned to Karen and asked, “All right, so, what do you want to fly off and do now?”

“I heard that!”

* * *

**17:39 EST**

“I get so happy when Wendy and Seraph finally get together,” Kara said with a sigh. “Even if it doesn’t last because he had to move away to get his own spinoff series.”

She and Karen had settled on spending the afternoon sacked out on the couches dozing off to Kara’s _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_ DVDs. At one point there had also been ice cream. Even though chewing was not the easiest or most fun thing for Karen at that time, she still considered it a good choice.

“Kara, can I ask you a question?”

“You mean in addition to the one you just asked? Certainly.”

“Remember when we went on that triple date? Why did you get so upset? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” It had been bothering Karen since that night and she figured there was no point in beating around the bush.

There was a long silence, and Karen was begin to suspect she had seriously offended Kara. That or Kara had fallen asleep again.

But it was neither. “It didn’t make me feel like I was doing a very good job of being human,” she said finally.

“Are you kidding me? A bad date is one of the most human experiences anyone can have!”

“I’m beginning to understand that my impression that all problems are solved in either twenty-two or forty-three minutes is a false equation I mistakenly made between television and real life,” Kara admitted. “But also… no. Never mind.”

“Kara. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

 _“Pleeeeeease?”_ Karen pouted.

Kara’s look softened. “I hope this doesn’t make you think less of me, but… sometimes I’m unable to stop myself from thinking of Krypton and feeling… empty. And sad. And lost. And… afraid.”

Karen sat up. She figured this was the kind of conversation a person should have sitting up. “Kara, how in the _universe_ could that possibly make me think less of you? I’m not gonna lie, I don’t even know how you get up some mornings. Lord knows I couldn’t. You lost so much. I don’t want to like, make an itemized list and bring you down, but seriously, let’s pretend for a minute it’s ever not okay for a person to feel sad when they’re sad. If _anybody_ I know is entitled to that, it’s you. Sadness doesn’t make you weak or _less_ or—it doesn’t make you anything but _sad_.”

“You have to say that because you’re my friend.”

“I hate to break this to you, Kara, but I don’t lie to my friends to spare their feelings. I’m not saying this because I have to, but because it’s the truth. I hope you don’t ever feel like you have to pretend not to be sad for my sake—or anyone else’s sake.”

Kara sat up as well, turning to face Karen. Her eyes were rimmed with tears. “I miss them all so much.”

Karen crossed the room and hugged her friend tight, letting her cry as much as she needed to.

Because that’s what friends were for.


End file.
